So. What’s it all about alfie?

Well dear reader, here we are. I have wanted to do this for such a long time. I love writing. I have wanted to write a book since I was little (in fairness haven’t we all?) I was a voracious reader and harboured big dreams of being the countries youngest, most celebrated, published author. Chatting with Uncle Gaybo on The Late Late about how original and mature my writings were. At the  ripe old age of 7 – in terms of gaining my child genius status time was really ticking along for me – I put pen to paper, in my Aisling 88 page feint ruled copy and my novel was born. I was only delighted with myself. I gave it to my mother, from whom I had inherited my love of the written word. I was so nervous, waiting for her opinion. Her eyes filled with tears, she bit back a sob – oh this was good, really good – she went a slightly funny colour, a rather worrying pinky-purple – wait, what? The woman was almost choking TRYING NOT TO LAUGH!!!! I couldn’t believe it. My book was not supposed to be funny – filled with intelligent and amusing observations sure- but not side splitting stuff. Turns out my book abut 4 children and a dog who go to St. Clare towers, enjoy many midnight feasts whilst on adventures and catching bad guys up a not-too-close magical tree may not have been as original as I’d thought. Some bint called Enid had beaten me to it and alas my fragile writers ego couldn’t take the criticism (or plagiarism allegations my mother was quite frankly throwing around the place with great abandon) and my career was over. By the time I had come back to the notion of writing I was far too old to be considered a prodigy and not good enough to hang with the normal aged writers so that was that. Until now!! Here it is.. my very own blog. So what am I going to blog about I hear you ask? What was that? You didn’t ask? Sure you’re here now I’ll tell you anyway.

Or at least I would if I had the faintest idea.

That’s right – and this is not a new sensation for me – but I have no idea what I’m doing. Maybe we’ll figure it out together. Once I’m brave enough to tell somebody this exists and somebody reads it, that is. Realistically, that may never happen. I may never get it to a stage where I’ll be happy to share it with anyone. It is such a frightening prospect to me – really putting yourself out into the world for others to decide if you’re worthy of their time. I’m one of those people that will  say ‘oh I could TOTALLY do that’ and my nearest and dearest will of course agree with me (they are after all contractually obliged). But now its crunch time and I’m a total wuss. I don’t like to fail at things. I don’t like not being good at things and I have realised lately that that has held me back from trying all sorts of great stuff. I think we all have an element of the fear in us and I have huge admiration for those people that feel the fear and then just say ‘fuck it’ and does it anyway. In the interest of full disclosure I usually say ‘fuck it’ and then just don’t bother. But now I’m a Mam I don’t want to pass that attitude on to my son. I want him to be fearless and feel capable of doing and being anything his gorgeous great big heart desires. So maybe the point of this is to prove to him, his Mam doesn’t just swear needlessly. Sometimes she swears, is terrified and does it anyway.

Fuck it.


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